The Philosopher's Stone
by Hasegawa
Summary: The Philosopher's Stone was not unique to only magical world. Somehow, somewhere, there also exists a world with their version of Philosopher's Stone. And Harry, being Harry, naturally attracted to trouble and a certain small trouble maker who despises milk.
1. Chapter 1

An idea from reading the crossover of HP x FMA in Esama's Toil and Trouble.

Summary: The Philosopher's Stone was not unique to only magical world. Somehow, somewhere, there also exists a world with their version of Philosopher's Stone. And Harry, being Harry, naturally attracted to trouble and a certain small trouble maker who despises milk.

Pairing: None at the moment. open to suggestion.

Rating: T at the moment.

Warning: uh... bad grammar, unbetaed chapter and a short one.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter, a wizard in his late twenties, knocked the door to the normal-looking apartment. It looked quite harmless and ordinary, but Harry knew for sure that the most ordinary looking things are the best camouflage. It was very true for this case as well. Behind the supposedly normal door, lived a very special and famous couple. Even more famous than Harry himself, who hold the title of Dark-Lord Vanquisher, Boy-Who-Lived and the youngest head auror in the century.

The door opened and revealed a reasonably middle aged looking man with small glasses perched on top of his nose. The man supported some beard and wearing a formal shirt and a black vest. His attire was similar to the 18th century clerk's fashion.

"Mr. Potter, I assume?" the man asked softly, and Harry nodded. "Please come in."

Harry stepped inside the apartment and found that every inch of the wall inside the apartment was filled with books and parchments. There was a lone desk with a single working chair by the middle of the room, with stacks of books and paper scattered around the table. It was a very unique and striking room.

"Please sit anywhere, I am sorry I don't have a second chair." The man asked Harry and went to the next room, which also covered from head to toe with books, and returned with a tray of simple looking pot of tea and two iron cups.

"I keep everything as simple as possible. My wife didn't like to come to my personal home, so this is all me." The man chuckled. Harry smiled back and took the cup of tea. It was tasteless, but Harry was polite enough to not fuss about it.

"So." The man continued again. "I heard about your heroic stunt and you helped the whole Wizarding World by destroying the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Harry nodded. "But it is not a very big deal, and it has been five years since then. I have done nothing much."

"You are the youngest head of Auror department, and I think personally that is quite an accomplishment." The man chuckled. He scratched his head. "So… why are you here, again?"

Harry nodded and pulled out a parchment from his robe. "I need to check the rumour that you had created a new Philosopher's Stone. From my knowledge, the last stone was lent to Albus Dumbledore twelve years ago, and it was legally destroyed. However, the ministry caught some new magical signature similar to the stone since last week from your current resident. I need the precise explanation regarding this magical activity."

The man looked down and became silent. Harry sighed.

"I know this might sound as if I am accusing you as a criminal; but rest assured, Mr. Flamel, I am here to give you peaceful chance to explain yourself. I appreciate your help in my first year by lending the stone to lure Voldemort out, but the ministry requires you to legally state whether the Stone is destroyed or not."

"You know," the man suddenly spoke out. Harry listened attentively. "Ever since Penerelle's death ten years ago, it has been hard on me. We have been prolonging our life through the usage of Elixir of Life. And theoretically, I should have died when we stopped drinking the Elixir, just like her. Yet; I am now speaking in front of you and nowhere older than twelve years ago."

"May I ask why?" Harry butted in.

"It's something I want to know about as well." The man smiled sadly. "The only thing I could come out is that I had some unfinished business, but it is not here."

Harry didn't reply and sipped his tasteless tea until the cup was drained. He watched as the man—who seemed not older than his forties but in actual truth was already on his 676 years old—lost in his own thought. Respecting the elder's silence, Harry started to focus on the room once again.

It was filled with ridiculous amount of book—if the ceiling could be magically enhanced to hold books, Harry was sure there would be no space spared from being a book shelves. There were books of every kind; small, thick, big, thin, old and new. The only furniture in the living room was a desk and a chair. They didn't even match each other; the chair was wooden and fragile looking while the desk looked like the best of mahogany woods.

On the desk, parchments were scattered with a lone quill on top of them. It all looked impersonal, except a picture on the side, of a lady with two boys smiling at the camera.

"I never know you had children." Harry smiled.

"Oh?" The man looked back at Harry and saw the picture as well. "Oh, yes. I do. It's been a long time since then that sometimes I don't remember much about them anymore."

Harry Potter was surprised. It must be a very long time, for he believes that nobody would forget their children, even when given enough time. Children and spouses would be parts of a person, forever.

"Don't you miss them?"

"I did. I still do. But not as much as the initial feeling I got when I found myself awake in this world—and oh, how that feeling of missing someone has fuelled me into researching many sciences, muggles physics and eventually magical runes and arithmancy just to find a way back home, to them. That was the reason Philosopher's Stone was created."

The man coughed a bit, before continuing. "Mr. Potter, you would be surprised that the Philosopher's Stone that claimed my fame was actually the product of worst sin imaginable."

The tone the old man was telling him with made Harry shivered.

"Do you know what the main ingredient of Philosopher's Stone is?"

Harry shook his head.

The man smiled. "I wish you never know what it is constitute from. It is better for your conscience that way."

* * *

The meeting left Harry with mixed feeling, but most importantly, suspense. What was Nicolas Flamel was insinuating to? Something that constitutes the Stone, something that is the worst sin possible, and something that would hurt Harry's own conscience. Mr. Flamel has told him that it was better Harry didn't know. He has warned Harry after that, and then promising the auror that he would come out with a detailed report in a week time.

It was too late, it seemed. Harry's interest was already piqued and flared. It felt like the nostalgic feeling of trying to unveiled the truth—even the truth always ended up with him facing the Dark Lord when he was only eleven, or facing a Basilisk when he was only a meagre twelve years old.

It was with the same spirit Harry came back to the door—knocking politely again, just on time for their agreed meeting time.

But nobody answered his knock; Harry became worried after ten minutes of silence. He finally used his magic and silently casted alomohora on the door, but he was welcomed with failure. Of course, Harry mussed to himself, how could he ever underestimate the lock charm on the door of the oldest wizard alive?

So he returned to the auror ways—with force. He opened it easily with a kick, something that was actually easier than using magic—Harry learned throughout his experience that wizards were so dependent on their magic that most of them forgot that muggles have been adapting successfully to the world without magic. In other words, magic was not always the only way.

What he saw horrified him.

The room was in a chaos; everything was in disarrays, and books were not books anymore: papers were flying around the room, and in the middle of the room (where the desk was perched a week before) was a huge rune circle surrounded by purple glow. And in the middle of everything, was Nicolas Flamel.

The old man didn't look like a human anymore—half of his face was disintegrated into muscle tissues and bones; his teeth were shown halfway, and he clearly has lost his lower limbs. The creature was only identifiable by the colour of remaining hair (blond) and the other half of his facial structure which thankfully, still recognizable.

"Mr. Flamel!" Harry shouted and went into the room, but the creature tried to swat him away. Harry moved aside, just to find that he unwittingly entered the circle of rune.

"Po….Teerrr…" The creature hissed, before everything was engulf in an exploding light.

The last thing Harry saw was the blinding light. The next thing he saw was an invisible—but Harry knew he was there, grinning at him with its wide rows of teeth—creature and a door.

"_Welcome." _It said. "_What do you want, and what are you prepared to pay?"_

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	2. Chapter 2

Continuation! I am sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. Enjoy! Unbetaed.

* * *

"_Welcome." _It said. "_What do you want, and what are you prepared to pay?" _

"Excuse me?" Harry shook his head, wondering whether he was dreaming or not. He then took his time to watch his surrounding. It felt like he was inside a room—a very, very big one, since Harry couldn't find any corner to this 'room'—that was very empty except the strange invisible smiling being in front of him and the weird looking door behind it. Now that Harry looked closer, the door was floating. It seemed to be some kind of gate, with specific carving which looked like ancient rune but with some linked diagrams.

"_Hey, pay more attention, please." _The creature sighed. "_I was saying, what do you want, and what are you prepared to pay it with?" _

Harry scratched his hair. What did he want? A lot. Height, for example. Being a head shorter than Ron and Malfoy might have dampened his pride a bit. But that was not something he really needed. And the creature was saying something about payment. Being raised in Dursley household where he had nothing but second hand stuffs and limited food, Harry has a strong adverse reaction to 'payment'. And the feeling just intensified after seven years of Hogwarts—where Harry was forced to pay the name 'Harry Potter' by risking his life more times than he could count.

"Err, nothing, thanks." Harry smiled. "I am fine with the way I am."

The creature tilted his head, as if questioning the sincerity of Harry's answer. Harry shrugged.

"I have money, I have loving family, I have a good job and everything. I am satisfied with my life, so please return me back."

It was then the creature smirked like there is no tomorrow.

"_Oh, but you see, you can't."_

"What do you mean I can't?" Harry scowled.

"_This is the gate to the next world of Alchemy." _

"Alchemy? As in, Alchemist like what Mr. Flamel is?" Wow, Harry was surprised. No matter how interesting his life and how f-up his fate was, being thrown to a new world was even grander than facing a dragon in his fourth year. It seemed that the severity of his 'adventure's is directly proportional to his age. Maybe when he was 100 years old, he would start an intergalactic war or something. That would be awesome, and Harry has full confidence he would be able to reach such old age. After all, the only thing that always true about Harry was that he would survive everything fate threw at him. Oh, but back to the matter at hand, Harry turned his full attention to the creature.

"What are you, anyway?"

"_Oh, I am glad you finally ask. I am what you humans called as the world. Also known as the 'universe', 'true knowledge', 'all', or 'one'. and, I am 'you'."_ The creature then pointed at Harry and clicked his fingers. The door appeared suddenly behind Harry. _"Welcome, ignorant fool." _

And Harry found himself sucked into the opened door, with shadowy hands all over him pulling Harry into the dark abyss.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, there were at least twenty pairs of eyes watching him.

Harry blinked. Where was he, now? The last thing he remembered was the passing slides of knowledge about 'life'. Some of it was in a blur, but then in the end he kind of met the deceased Voldemort, who was still in his noseless body; drinking tea with his parents as if they were in fancy tea time garden party. It was surreal.

And suddenly his hand was caught by a silhouette of a man, and Harry then realized, he was him.

The man who captured his hand was a mirror image of himself. And then Harry felt his body shrinking, accompanied with unbearable pain.

"You alright?" one of the man hovering over him asked. Harry nodded. His body was rather stiff, but it was bearable. It felt like after-portkey effect.

_Ye_.._yeah_. Harry answered, but there was no voice. Harry tried to clear his throat, and spoke, but no matter what he did, there was no sound.

The people in front of him stared with pity. Harry tried to wake up, and found that he was inside a small room, filled with at least ten people. Then, as if in cue, everybody started to talk again.

"Hey man, are you Ok?"

"Can he speak?"

"Hey, dude, can you see me?"

"Idiots, of course he can see you! Give way, give way! Let him breathe! You are suffocating him!"

"Boss, come here, the dude is awake!"

Harry felt like he was in a roller coaster of sounds before suddenly everybody calmed down and a man with unique black glasses stood beside his bed. the man wore a sleeveless furry leather jacket, and a tight shirt with leather pants. Truly a show off of Malfoy's calibre, Harry blinked. The man did not look like a wizard at all, but he could feel a bit of magic in him. A squib, maybe? But then, the feeling of magick Harry felt as a bit different from the ones he felt from Mrs. Figg the Squib. So maybe he was just a muggle?

"Hey man, how are you feeling?" The man asked.

Harry smiled and answered, but there was no voice. The Head of Magical Enforcement touched his throat and tried to speak, but he couldn't. He also tried to use some spell to make his voice louder (like _Sonorus_!) but because he produced no sound, there was no spell and no magic was taking place.

Harry growl in frustration. He couldn't speak!

"Oh, he is mute." The man sighed. "Anybody has a pen and paper?"

Quickly Harry was supplied with paper and a marker. The wizard quickly wrote _thanks_ and_ my name is Harry Potter._ The group hovered upon the paper, and silence ensued.

"Okay, who can read it for us?" The 'Boss' suddenly asked. "I am not really familiar with this alphabet."

Harry came to realization that most of the people in the room were illiterate.

Finally a girl with short hair cut and suspender came forward and read what was written on the paper. "Oh, he is saying thank you and his name is Harry, Harry Potter. Hi Harry, I am Martel."

Harry nodded and smiled at her, and then the boss smiled again at Harry.

"Okay, Harry." The man smirked. "I am Greed. Welcome to the Devil's Nest!"

* * *

Meanwhile, underneath the Central, deep, deep down, 'Father' suddenly opened his eyes. Pride was the only one around at that moment, and he was the only one to watch how their 'Father' became white and shaking.

"What is wrong, Father?" The shadow asked, in concern. He is Pride, the first child after all.

"Something is wrong… something has come, and I don't know where it stands in our grand plan." 'Father' tilted his head absentmindedly, gathering himself back. "I need to meet it, to evaluate it. Pride, tell Wrath to see me next."

"Yes, Father."

* * *

Edward Elric was frozen with the facial feature that showed his whole mouth cavity. His position of having heavy weights on his arms made him looked even more ridiculous. His armour brother, Alphonse, asked worriedly, "What's wrong, big brother? You strained your back?"

Edward looked away, but he answered with hollow voice.

"I forget this year assessment!"

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